I posted on Facebook the other day that we had to call the sheriff’s office. Here’s what happened…

On a local Facebook group, a man posted that he needed chicken manure for a specific plant for his garden. I contacted him, said my husband recently broke his back, and that if he wanted to come clean out our chicken coop, he was welcome to everything he collected.

After a few private messages, and exchanged phone numbers, he showed up a few days later, on Wednesday. And, that’s when it all began…

Charlie Chicken Poop (as we affectionately called him) arrived with plastic bags to cover his feet (he was wearing sandals), and a bucket. I had already set out all the tools for him, along with a face mask. Charlie, a chain smoker, spent a lot of time sitting either on our porch, or on his bucket in the chicken coop, resting with a smoke.

He brought an old gun he’d received from his father long ago and asked Brian if he could clean it, and possibly repair it. Brian considered a clean chicken coop vs. a few hours working on a gun a fair trade. (Brian and Max both cleaned and worked on the gun the following Saturday. It looked nice and clean, but it couldn’t be repaired. Charlie would need to find a gunsmith for that.)

Anyway, back to Wednesday. What should have taken about 30 minutes to an hour tops dragged on for hours and hours. Charlie seems like a nice guy but, man on man, could that guy TALK! I figured he was just lonely so I obliged him. But, it was starting to get out of hand. Each time I walked outside, I told Brian, “See ya whenever!”

One time it was going on so long that Brian used his phone to talk to me through the doorbell cam, telling me he needed some help. I was getting increasingly behind on a SERIOUS amount of work that day.

Charlie was very old, and in pretty poor health. I offered to help him with whatever he needed, but he declined. The sun was starting to set, and I walked out there to tell him that the chickens were getting antsy because they wouldn’t go back into the hen house until he and I left the coop.

Thirty minutes later, I went out there again. He was done with the job, but was once again sitting on his bucket in the chicken coop, smoking. I started putting things in the shed and gently but forcefully told him we needed to leave the coop NOW.

Charlie meandered back to our front porch, where he sat down and started smoking again. I needed to get inside and get dinner going for Brian but I didn’t want to be rude. So, I sat there with Charlie for another 30 more minutes (or more – I lost track), and he shared some personal health details with me that were very…odd. Let’s just say they were embarrassing (one of the stories made me lose my appetite), and not something you would ever tell somebody on the first day you met them. I won’t get into details. You’re welcome.

Anyway, throughout the day, I was getting increasingly uncomfortable around Charlie. Something was very “off.” My spidey senses were screaming.

Charlie finally stood up to leave and said he’d be back in three weeks.

Two days later, without notice or warning, Charlie’s truck pulled up in our driveway. I’d warned him about Tank (our guard dog), and Tank was out in the yard barking at Charlie like crazy. I was angry that Charlie showed up without calling or texting. And, I was trying to get caught up on my work after missing so much two days prior because of Chatty Charlie. So, I let Tank just sit out there and bark at him, and Charlie backed out of the driveway and left.

That night, I was on Facebook, and checked my private messages. Charlie had sent me a message on Thursday, saying he had some paperwork for me, and to let him know what would be a good time for him to bring it over.

PAPERWORK?!?! For WHAT?!?! I was starting to get even more suspicious about Charlie Chicken Poop. Something, many things, were not adding up at all.

That’s when I had to lay down the law with Charlie. I responded to his message, telling him the situation clearly wasn’t going to work out, and that if he showed up in our yard unannounced once again, that we’d call 9-1-1 and have him arrested for trespassing.

He didn’t respond.

The next morning, I showed Brian the odd conversation. He replied, “Angie, we still have his gun.”

So, Brian texted Charlie, telling him that his bucket (he’d left it here) and his cleaned gun were sitting on our front porch.

Charlie was afraid I’d have him arrested, so he said he’d have a friend pick it up. Except…that didn’t happen. Hours went by. Charlie later texted Brian saying he’d mention the situation to the sheriff the next time he was there.

The next time he was there? Was the sheriff often stopping at Charlie Chicken Poop’s house???

That wasn’t going to work for us. We didn’t want Charlie to accuse us of stealing his gun, and it seemed that might be the way the situation was heading. So, Brian called the sheriff. The sheriff then called Charlie and told him to hightail it on over to our house, get his stuff, and to NOT knock on our door.

We had our doorbell camera on. The gun was on top of a bucket (turned upside down) with the case unzipped where the camera could clearly see the gun inside. And, anybody picking up the gun off the porch would see the gun inside the case.

Sure enough, a truck pulled up. A man and woman walked to our front porch (not Charlie – I think he stayed in the truck), and picked up Charlie’s bucket and his gun. The woman picked up the bucket and the guy saw the gun, zipped up the pouch, and they both walked away.

I can tell you that, after all of that, I will NOT be offering any local folks free chicken poop (or anything else that involves someone coming here) EVER AGAIN!!

The excitement for our week didn’t stop there…

After Brian broke his back, and was MISERABLE in the emergency room, the focal point of his brain was on his back. However, he was having a hard time moving his right arm without it pinging him as well. His left elbow had a large abrasion on it. They cleaned that up and x-rayed that shoulder and arm. Nothing broken.

They never x-rayed his right arm.

Yesterday morning, Brian had to crutch himself down the sidewalk and to the truck. His appointment was scheduled for 7:30 a.m. at the orthopedist. (WHO makes an appointment that early in the morning?! BRIAN DOES!)

Anyway, at 6:30 a.m., I was driving very slowly and gently down our private neighborhood road that, as Brian put it when describing the accident last week, has potholes the size of moon craters. He was grunting with each bump. Once we got on the main roads, he was fine.

We arrived at the very large sports medicine place in Chattanooga, checked in using their kiosk, got a gift of a clipboard with lots of paperwork to fill out, and sat down. We were quickly called back. We told the nurse about Brian’s shoulder. She said, “The doctor is only seeing you for your back today.”

What?!?!

Then they came in and took Brian away for more x-rays.

The orthopedist is a member of our church, and a friend of Brian’s, so Brian got the entire workup after all. Brian asked him when he could start being active again. The doctor said, “When all the pain goes away in…about 8 to 10 weeks. Brian looked crushed. He can’t STAND sitting still (pun intended)! And, sitting for more than 20 minutes at a time hurts his back, so he has to migrate back and forth from the recliner (where he works on his laptop), to the bed (flat on his back), and back again.

The doc was recording his voice with his phone during the examination of Brian’s back. Apparently that’s how they do the first step of medical transcription now. He was saying a lot of words I’d never heard before. Then, he pulled up all the x-rays and was zooming in and out, and moving from picture to picture, and still speaking into his phone. It was the first time we saw the breaks on both sides of Brian’s sacrum.

The doctor looked at all of the x-rays from the hospital, and the ones just taken in his office, along with the CT Scans from the hospital. He was rattling away medical-speak so fast that he sounded like an auctioneer.

After he finished, and turned in his chair, I mentioned Brian’s shoulder to the doctor.

He had Brian stand up and, speaking into his phone once again, started naming what I recognized must be certain medical maneuvers to look for a specific injury. LOTS of them. He had Brian lift his arms above his head (the right one didn’t cooperate), push against the doc’s hands, pull against them, turn them right and left, and half a dozen other maneuvers. Some of them didn’t hurt Brian at all, while others had him wincing pretty bad.

So, what injury did the hospital miss? Rotator cuff. Brian’s right arm should have been in a sling for the previous 13 days, but I guess that would have made working on the computer difficult so, for all our authors who’ve had their book trailers designed by Brian since his accident, you’re welcome. 😉

His left elbow swelled up in the hospital. The next morning, it looked like he had a tennis ball shoved under his skin. Yesterday, they gave him a “Jelbow” (Get it? Jel Elbow? Cute, huh?) so it won’t hurt when he puts his left elbow on anything. That was $28…and not covered by insurance.

Oh, and the hospital told him to take Motrin. That’s what he’d been taking for 13 days. He didn’t like the muscle relaxers. They gave him weird dreams, and he kept waking up. But, if you think about it, if you fell nine feet and landed on your back on concrete, you’d probably have nightmares, too. I sure would!

The orthopedist said that Motrin (Advil) actually inhibits the growth of bone (to repair his sacrum). He told Brian to switch to Tylenol. Guess what? Something in Tylenol always gives Brian a headache. He had to switch yesterday, and he had a roaring headache last night. 🙁

I’ve only been attacked by our rooster, Benedict, three times since I took over the “life of a farmer’s wife” duties (I’ve been posting about my adventures on Facebook). After I launched him twice into the air with my foot that one afternoon (I still have a big bruise on the top of my foot!!), and after my friend chased him after he jumped on my back and bit my BUTT with his beak, he’s been leaving me alone.

Four days ago, I was feeding the chicks (they’re still in their chick condominium in the garage until it warms up here). They are six to seven inches tall now. When I put the cup of feed into their cage, one of them bit me!!! I now have a bruise the size of a marble on my index finger knuckle. What a jerk!!!

All the chickens LOVE Brian and they all HATE me, even though I’m the one feeding them now!!!

On the plus side, I’ve been able to keep up with the laundry, dishes, floor sweeping, other household chores, Rocky’s litter box (uggg!!!), the JERK CHICKENS, the dogs, AND my work just fine here…except for the day Charlie Chicken Poop was here.

I even had to prep the outside of the house Wednesday night because we had a chance of tornadoes. Thank the good Lord that didn’t happen! We were actually trying to figure out how to get Brian down the basement stairs in the event of a tornado. He can NOT do stairs right now. I told him I’d simply get the snow sled out of the garage and thump thump thump him down the stairs. I thought that was hilarious! Brian did not…

RELATED

• Brian Fell 9 Feet and Broke His Back! But, HE’S ALIVE and NOT Paralyzed!!!
• I Wrestled a Rooster (not Benedict!)…AND WON!!!
• Grandma Badly Broke Her Femur + 2 More Chickens (POOF!) Disappeared!
• Randy the Rooster Pulls Another Prank
• R.I.P. Randy the Rooster – by Brian Whiddon, Managing Editor
• Who’s the Rooster?? – by Brian Whiddon – Managing Editor

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